The film “M” by Fritz Lang, released in 1931, is a masterpiece that transcends the limitations of its time, exploring the darker recesses of human nature and society. While often categorized as a thriller or crime drama, “M” operates on a level far more profound, delving into the structures of power, desire, and societal control. The film can be seen as an uncanny prefiguration of the monstrous forces that would soon engulf Germany, a nation on the brink of embracing totalitarianism.

Here’s a look at 20 film techniques used in M, incorporating concepts related to movement, time, and perception.

1. Sound Bridges: Sound plays a crucial role in connecting different moments within the film. The whistling of “In the Hall of the Mountain King” acts as an auditory thread that weaves through the narrative, linking various scenes and creating a continuous flow of time. This sound transcends specific moments, embodying the ever-present menace of the murderer, Hans Beckert.
2. Off-Screen Sound: What happens beyond the frame can deeply affect what is within it. When Elsie Beckmann is murdered, the horror is conveyed not through what we see but through what we hear off-screen—her mother’s calls, the rolling ball, and the trapped balloon. These sounds extend the emotional impact of the scene, suggesting the terror that exists just beyond our immediate view.
3. Low-Angle Shots: The camera’s perspective can amplify the power dynamics between characters. Low-angle shots of the police and criminals emphasize their dominance within the story, making them appear larger and more formidable. This technique visually reinforces their control over the unfolding events in the city.
4. High-Angle Shots: Conversely, high-angle shots can diminish a character’s power. When Beckert is shown from above, he appears small and vulnerable, reflecting his loss of control as the net tightens around him. This shift in perspective underscores the change in his status within the narrative.
5. Deep Focus: Multiple layers of action can coexist within a single frame, allowing us to perceive different elements of the story simultaneously. In the scene where the beggars track Beckert, the use of deep focus captures the coordination across various planes of action, showing the interconnectedness of the city’s inhabitants as they move through time and space.
6. Montage Editing: The rapid succession of images can convey a sense of urgency and movement. The quick cuts between the police organizing raids and the criminals holding meetings create a frenetic pace, reflecting the intensity of the hunt for Beckert. This editing style drives the narrative forward, capturing the relentless passage of time.
7. Expressionist Lighting: Strong contrasts between light and dark can reveal the emotional and moral complexity of a scene. The use of shadows in M highlights the internal struggles of characters, particularly Beckert, whose face is often partially obscured, suggesting the darkness within him. This lighting technique captures the tension between light and shadow, good and evil.
8. Reflections: Reflections in mirrors or glass create moments where reality is doubled, revealing different facets of a character’s identity. Beckert’s reflection in a shop window captures his split nature, as the image of an ordinary man is overlaid with the monstrous reality of his actions. This duality is central to his character, and the reflection symbolizes the coexistence of these opposing forces.
9. Tracking Shots: Following a character through a space allows the viewer to experience their journey in real time. As the camera tracks Beckert through the city streets, it immerses us in his world, blurring the lines between his perspective and our own. This technique creates a sense of continuity and flow, making us part of the unfolding events.
10. Close-Ups: Focusing closely on a character’s face or a particular detail can heighten emotional intensity. The close-up of Beckert during his trial by the criminals isolates his fear and desperation, turning his face into a landscape of raw emotion. This technique allows the viewer to connect deeply with the character’s inner turmoil.
11. Parallel Editing: Cutting between different groups or locations can build tension by showing simultaneous actions that will eventually converge. The intercutting of the police and criminals planning to capture Beckert creates a sense of inevitability, as two separate movements draw closer to their intersection. This technique underscores the film’s narrative structure, where disparate forces are on a collision course.
12. Point-of-View Shots: When the camera adopts a character’s point of view, it aligns the viewer with their perspective, creating a direct connection between their experience and ours. In M, when we see through Beckert’s eyes as he follows a young girl, the shot draws us into his predatory mindset, challenging our moral stance as we momentarily share his gaze.
13. Use of Silence: The absence of sound can be as powerful as its presence. In M, silence is used to create tension, particularly during Beckert’s final confession. Here, the silence allows time to stretch, making each moment feel more weighty and significant. The lack of sound focuses attention on the visual and emotional elements of the scene, amplifying its impact.
14. Mirror Shots: Mirrors can reveal hidden truths or dualities within characters. When Beckert looks into a mirror, it reflects not just his physical appearance but his inner conflict, where his outward normalcy is contrasted with his dark impulses. This technique creates a visual metaphor for the coexistence of multiple identities within a single individual.
15. Canted Angles: Tilting the camera can convey a sense of disorientation or psychological imbalance. When Beckert realizes he is being followed, the canted angle distorts the world around him, reflecting his growing paranoia and fear. This visual instability mirrors the character’s mental state, drawing the viewer into his experience of the world unraveling.
16. Framing: Characters can be visually enclosed within frames, such as doorways or windows, to suggest entrapment or confinement. Beckert is often framed in this way, foreshadowing his eventual capture and trial. The physical frames within the shot become metaphors for the social and moral traps that ensnare the characters.
17. Symbolic Objects: Objects in M carry symbolic weight, representing broader themes or ideas. The balloon that Elsie carries, which is later found caught in power lines, symbolizes the fragility of innocence and the pervasive threat that looms over the city. These objects serve as visual cues that connect the personal with the universal.
18. Editing Pace: The rhythm of the editing can influence the emotional tone and intensity of a scene. During Beckert’s trial, the rapid cuts between the criminals and his reactions create a sense of mounting pressure and inescapable judgment. This pacing mirrors the increasing stakes within the narrative, propelling the story toward its climax.
19. Non-Diegetic Sound: Sound that exists outside the immediate world of the film can influence the viewer’s interpretation of the events on screen. Beckert’s whistling is an example of a non-diegetic sound that haunts the narrative, serving as an auditory signature that underscores his presence even when he is not visible. This technique creates a layer of meaning that extends beyond the visual.
20. Long Takes: Allowing the camera to linger on a scene without cutting can emphasize the passage of time and the gravity of the moment. In M, the long take that follows Beckert through the city allows us to experience the unfolding of events in real-time, creating a sense of inevitability as time progresses. This technique underscores the weight of each action and decision within the film.

Through these techniques, M crafts a complex narrative that explores time, space, and identity, drawing the viewer into the psychological depths of its characters and the broader social landscape they inhabit. The film’s visual and auditory language creates a world where perception and reality are constantly in flux, challenging the audience to engage with the story on multiple levels.

“M” portrays a society plagued by an elusive evil—the child murderer Hans Beckert. Yet, the film’s true focus is not merely on the criminal, but on the society that hunts him. The authorities, failing to capture Beckert, are pressured by an increasingly paranoid populace. This leads to an ironic twist where the underworld, the very embodiment of criminality, takes it upon themselves to catch Beckert, not out of a sense of justice, but to restore their own disrupted order. The boundaries between law and crime blur, revealing a perverse structure that mirrors the mechanisms of power at play.

The murderer Beckert, portrayed with unsettling sympathy by Peter Lorre, embodies a figure of pure desire, unable to escape the compulsion to kill. His actions are driven by an impulse he cannot control, an alien force within him that directs his every move. Beckert’s monologue during the kangaroo court scene, where he pleads for understanding, reveals a split within his psyche. He is both the subject and the object of his desire, caught in a loop of guilt and compulsion. The horror lies not in the murders themselves, but in the recognition that Beckert is not an aberration, but a reflection of the hidden desires that society refuses to acknowledge.

In the world of “M,” society’s response to Beckert is telling. The police, representing the state, employ methods of surveillance and control that reflect an obsessive need to restore order. The use of modern technology—such as the telephone and fingerprinting—indicates a society increasingly dominated by mechanisms of control. Yet, these efforts are futile, as the true threat is not Beckert’s acts of violence, but the uncontrollable desires that he represents. The society’s need to categorize and contain Beckert is a response to its own disavowed anxieties.

The film’s depiction of the mob is equally significant. The public, whipped into a frenzy, becomes a collective entity driven by a singular desire for retribution. In their pursuit of Beckert, the mob reveals its own latent violence, a primal force that seeks an outlet. This collective desire for punishment mirrors the growing influence of fascism in Germany, where the desire for a strong leader and the identification of an external enemy became mechanisms for channeling societal unrest. The mob’s demand for Beckert’s execution is not just about justice; it is a manifestation of a deeper, unspoken drive toward annihilation.

The cinematography of “M” also plays a crucial role in conveying these themes. Lang’s use of shadows and light creates an atmosphere of pervasive dread, where the boundaries between the seen and the unseen, the known and the unknown, are constantly shifting. This visual style reflects the instability of the social order, where the lines between authority and criminality, sanity and madness, are increasingly blurred. The city itself becomes a labyrinthine structure, a reflection of the labyrinthine nature of desire and power, where every corner holds the potential for violence.

“M” thus functions as a cinematic exploration of the dynamics of power and desire, revealing the dark undercurrents that drive human behavior and societal structures. The film’s prescient depiction of a society on the verge of fascism is not merely a historical commentary but a profound examination of the mechanisms that allow such a descent into totalitarianism. The horror of “M” lies not in the figure of Beckert, but in the realization that the structures of power and desire that lead to his creation are still very much present, lurking beneath the surface of any society.

ANTI-OEDIPUS

The character of Hans Beckert in Fritz Lang’s M can be related to the figure of Anti-Oedipus as conceptualized by Deleuze and Guattari in their work Anti-Oedipus. This connection lies in how Beckert embodies the breakdown of traditional psychoanalytic structures and the representation of desire outside the confines of the Oedipal framework.

In Anti-Oedipus, Deleuze and Guattari challenge the centrality of the Oedipus complex in understanding desire, proposing instead that desire is a productive force, a flow that cannot be fully captured or restrained by societal norms, familial structures, or the psychoanalytic categories imposed by Freud. They argue that desire is not merely a lack or something that is repressed by social structures but is a force that continually escapes, resists, and transgresses the limits placed upon it by the Oedipal triangle (father-mother-child).

Hans Beckert, the child murderer in M, can be seen as a manifestation of this uncontainable and destructive flow of desire. His compulsions, which he himself cannot fully understand or control, represent the breakdown of traditional structures that might otherwise direct or contain desire within socially acceptable bounds. Beckert’s actions are not motivated by an Oedipal struggle—he is not driven by familial dynamics, nor is he acting out a rebellion against a paternal figure or a repressive moral order in the Freudian sense. Instead, Beckert is the embodiment of pure, unstructured, and unchanneled desire, a force that has escaped all traditional controls and now manifests as a monstrous drive that cannot be integrated into society.

The societal response to Beckert, as depicted in the film, reflects a collective attempt to re-impose order and control on this uncontainable desire. Both the police and the criminal underworld are invested in capturing Beckert, not only to stop his crimes but also to restore a semblance of control over the chaotic forces he represents. Yet, in the context of Anti-Oedipus, this very attempt to capture and contain desire only highlights its fundamental nature as something that resists such containment. Beckert, as the Anti-Oedipus, reveals the limitations of societal and psychoanalytic structures in dealing with the raw, unfiltered force of desire that he represents.

Moreover, Beckert’s infamous monologue during the kangaroo court scene underscores this point. He expresses a profound sense of alienation from his own desires, acknowledging that these drives are foreign to him, yet inexorably part of who he is. This split within Beckert, where he is both the subject of his desires and their victim, mirrors Deleuze and Guattari’s rejection of the traditional psychoanalytic idea that desire is inherently tied to familial and societal repression. Beckert’s desires have broken free from any such repression, manifesting in their purest, most destructive form, and society’s desperate attempt to judge and punish him is, in a sense, an attempt to reassert a lost control over a force that has already escaped its bounds.

In this sense, Beckert functions as a critique of the inadequacy of traditional structures—legal, moral, psychoanalytic—to address the realities of human desire as conceptualized in Anti-Oedipus. He is a figure of unmediated desire, a force that exposes the fragility and, ultimately, the failure of these structures to fully capture or control the complexities of human drives. His role in the film serves as a reminder of the dark, chaotic undercurrents that always threaten to destabilize the carefully constructed edifices of order and civilization.

In conclusion, Beckert as the Anti-Oedipus underscores the core ideas of Deleuze and Guattari: that desire is a productive, creative, and sometimes destructive force that cannot be fully encapsulated by traditional psychoanalytic or societal frameworks. M thus offers a cinematic exploration of these ideas, portraying a world where the uncontrollable forces of desire break through the surface, revealing the limits of repression and control.

The implications of “M” extend beyond the immediate context of Weimar Germany, offering a timeless exploration of how societies respond to perceived threats. The film captures the cyclical nature of fear and control, where the attempt to contain and eliminate a threat often leads to the reinforcement of authoritarian tendencies. This cycle, as depicted in the film, is driven by a collective disavowal of the darker aspects of human nature—desires, fears, and impulses that are repressed and projected onto an external enemy.

Beckert’s character embodies the uncanny, the return of the repressed. He is the figure through which the unspeakable desires of society are articulated, albeit in a distorted form. His crimes are a manifestation of a deep-seated societal sickness, one that cannot be cured simply by his elimination. The film suggests that the real danger lies in the mechanisms of denial and repression that society employs to distance itself from these undesirable elements. The more society attempts to purge itself of these aspects, the more they re-emerge in twisted, destructive forms.

This is evident in the film’s depiction of justice. The kangaroo court that ultimately judges Beckert is a perverse parody of legal order. The criminals who constitute the jury are themselves outside the law, yet they take on the role of arbiters of justice. This inversion of roles highlights the fragility of legal and moral structures in the face of overwhelming fear and desire. The law, as represented by the police and the judiciary, is revealed to be inadequate in dealing with the complexities of human nature. Instead, justice is reduced to a spectacle, a performance designed to satisfy the collective need for resolution, regardless of the moral implications.

In this context, “M” can be seen as a meditation on the origins of fascism. The film was made during a period of intense social and political upheaval in Germany, when the democratic structures of the Weimar Republic were increasingly under threat. The rise of the Nazi Party can be understood as a response to the same fears and desires that “M” explores—the fear of the unknown, the desire for order, and the projection of internal anxieties onto an external other. The film’s portrayal of the mob, with its unthinking desire for blood, foreshadows the mass rallies and orchestrated violence that would soon become central to the Nazi regime.

Furthermore, “M” suggests that the mechanisms of fascism are not external to society but are embedded within it. The film’s depiction of surveillance, control, and the breakdown of legal norms reflects the ways in which authoritarianism can arise from within, rather than being imposed from without. The desire for security, for a return to a mythical state of order, can lead to the surrender of individual freedoms and the embrace of totalitarianism. In this sense, “M” is a warning about the dangers of a society that refuses to confront its own contradictions and instead seeks to eliminate them through force.

The final moments of “M” are particularly haunting. Beckert’s fate is left unresolved, as the film ends with a shot of the grieving mothers, one of whom says, “This will not bring our children back.” This statement encapsulates the futility of the entire pursuit—neither the death of Beckert nor the restoration of order can truly address the underlying traumas that have been exposed. The film leaves us with a profound sense of unease, a recognition that the true horror lies not in the actions of a single individual but in the societal conditions that produce such individuals and the responses they elicit.

“M” thus stands as a powerful exploration of the human condition, one that transcends its historical context to offer insights into the nature of power, desire, and social control. The film’s depiction of a society teetering on the edge of collapse, driven by fear and the need for control, remains as relevant today as it was in 1931. It is a reminder of the dangers of repression, the fragility of legal and moral structures, and the ways in which collective anxieties can lead to the erosion of democratic principles and the rise of authoritarianism.

In the end, “M” is not just a film about a murderer, but a film about the society that creates and responds to such figures. It is a cinematic meditation on the dark forces that shape human behavior and societal structures, forces that, when left unchecked, can lead to the most catastrophic consequences. The film’s legacy is not only as a cinematic masterpiece but as a profound commentary on the human psyche and the precariousness of civilization itself.

WEIMAR

You could say that Germany gave themselves or itself to this desire that the main character in M represents by following Nazism and then into World War 2 and the Holocaust.

The character of Hans Beckert in M can be seen as a precursor or symbolic representation of the dark desires that would later engulf Germany in the era of Nazism, World War II, and the Holocaust. Beckert embodies a force of desire that is irrational, uncontrollable, and deeply unsettling—a force that society struggles to comprehend and contain.

In this sense, Beckert’s character can be viewed as a metaphor for the collective unconscious of Germany at that time, a society teetering on the edge of surrendering to its own destructive impulses. Just as Beckert’s actions are driven by an insatiable compulsion that he himself does not fully understand, Germany in the 1930s and 1940s can be seen as giving itself over to a similar force of irrational desire—one that was channeled through the ideology of Nazism.

Nazism, with its promise of order, power, and the restoration of national pride, offered an outlet for the repressed desires and fears of the German populace. It allowed these dark impulses to be externalized and directed against perceived enemies—Jews, communists, and other marginalized groups—whom the regime demonized as threats to the nation. The collective embrace of Nazism can thus be interpreted as a surrender to these destructive desires, a societal plunge into a perverse form of unity that was achieved through violence, exclusion, and ultimately, genocide.

The trajectory from the rise of Nazism to World War II and the Holocaust can be seen as the historical unfolding of the same forces that M explores on a more intimate scale. Just as Beckert’s desire leads to a series of increasingly violent acts, so too did Germany’s embrace of Nazism lead to an escalation of violence on an unprecedented scale. The Holocaust, in particular, represents the ultimate manifestation of this desire—a desire to annihilate, to cleanse, and to exert total control over life and death.

In this context, Beckert’s character can be viewed as a tragic harbinger of what was to come. His inability to control his desires, and society’s failure to understand or properly address them, foreshadows the way in which Germany, as a nation, would eventually give itself over to its own darkest impulses. The film M thus serves as a powerful and prescient reflection on the dangers of unchecked desire and the catastrophic consequences that can arise when a society succumbs to its most destructive urges.

The horror of Beckert is not just in his individual crimes, but in what he represents—a force of desire that, when left unchecked, can lead to the unraveling of moral and social order. In this way, the film can be seen as a warning about the potential for such desires to take hold of an entire society, leading it down a path of destruction. The fact that M was made just two years before the Nazis came to power adds a layer of tragic irony to this interpretation, as the film inadvertently captures the prelude to a much larger and more devastating historical catastrophe.

Ultimately, the connection between Beckert’s character and Germany’s subsequent history highlights the terrifying potential for entire societies to be swept up in forces that they do not fully understand, leading to unimaginable horrors. M is not just a film about a murderer; it is a film about the fragility of civilization and the ease with which it can be undermined by the very desires that it seeks to repress.

AMERICAN SURRENDER

The idea that the United States might be surrendering itself to desire in a way similar to certain forces in the Weimar Republic is a provocative one, and it invites a deep exploration of the cultural, political, and social dynamics at play in contemporary America. To make this comparison, it’s essential to understand what is meant by “surrendering to desire” in this context, and how this concept played out in the Weimar Republic.

In Weimar Germany, the societal pressures, economic instability, and deep-seated resentments created a fertile ground for irrational and destructive desires to take root. These desires were often tied to fears—fear of economic ruin, fear of social decay, fear of the “other”—and were exploited by the rising tide of fascism, which offered simplistic solutions to complex problems. The surrender to these desires led to the rise of Nazism, which channeled collective anxieties and resentments into a destructive nationalist fervor, ultimately culminating in World War II and the Holocaust.

Drawing a parallel to the United States today, one could argue that similar dynamics are at play, albeit in a different historical and cultural context. The U.S. is grappling with a range of societal pressures, including economic inequality, political polarization, and cultural fragmentation. These pressures have given rise to powerful desires—for security, for identity, for control—that can manifest in various ways, some of which may be destructive.

For example, the rise of populism in the United States, with its emphasis on strong leadership, nationalist rhetoric, and a return to a perceived golden age, can be seen as a response to deep-seated desires within the populace. This populism often taps into fears about economic displacement, cultural change, and the loss of traditional values. In this sense, it mirrors the way in which Weimar Germany’s societal anxieties were harnessed by fascist forces to create a unifying, albeit destructive, political movement.

Moreover, the increasing polarization of American society, where political discourse is often driven by anger, fear, and a desire to dominate the opposition, reflects a surrender to desire in the sense that rational dialogue and compromise are often abandoned in favor of more primal, reactionary impulses. This environment fosters a kind of political and social tribalism, where the “us vs. them” mentality becomes dominant, echoing the divisive and exclusionary politics of Weimar Germany.

The influence of consumerism and media also plays a role in this dynamic. In the United States, the desire for consumption, entertainment, and instant gratification has been amplified by the media and digital platforms, which often prioritize sensationalism over substance. This creates a feedback loop where desires are continually stoked and satisfied in increasingly superficial ways, leading to a culture that may be more concerned with appearances and immediate satisfaction than with deeper, long-term considerations. In this way, the U.S. might be seen as surrendering to a different kind of desire—one rooted in consumerism and spectacle, rather than the overtly political and ideological desires that fueled Nazism.

AMERICAN DESIRES

The notion that U.S. elites have curtailed desires by repressing them adds a layer of complexity to the discussion of how the United States might be surrendering to or managing societal desires, especially in comparison to the Weimar Republic.

In the Weimar Republic, the elites—political leaders, intellectuals, and cultural figures—often struggled to manage the desires of a population grappling with post-war trauma, economic hardship, and social change. These desires, when not adequately addressed or redirected, were exploited by extremist movements. In some cases, elites were complicit in this exploitation, either through active support or through failure to provide meaningful alternatives. The result was a society that eventually surrendered to the most destructive impulses, culminating in the rise of Nazism.

In the contemporary United States, the dynamic is somewhat different, but the repression and redirection of societal desires by elites can still be observed. Economic elites, political leaders, and media moguls have often played a role in shaping and controlling public desires, particularly through the mechanisms of consumerism, media, and political discourse. When desires for social justice, economic equality, or political change arise, these elites may respond by attempting to repress or deflect these desires, rather than addressing the underlying causes.

This repression can take many forms:

1. Economic Repression: The desires of large segments of the population for economic security, fair wages, and access to essential services have often been curtailed by policies that favor the wealthy and powerful. Economic inequality has been maintained or even exacerbated by practices like union-busting, deregulation, and tax cuts for the rich. When people express their frustration or demand change, they are often met with narratives that blame them for their own circumstances—accusations of laziness, lack of initiative, or poor life choices are common. This blame-shifting allows elites to maintain the status quo while deflecting attention from systemic issues.
2. Political Repression: Desires for political reform or greater representation can be similarly repressed. Gerrymandering, voter suppression, and the influence of money in politics are all methods by which elites maintain control over the political system, curbing the desires of the broader populace for more democratic or equitable governance. When movements arise demanding change—such as the Civil Rights Movement, Occupy Wall Street, or Black Lives Matter—these movements are often met with repression, both overt (police violence, legal crackdowns) and covert (media framing, political co-optation). The leaders and participants in these movements are often blamed for social unrest, rather than the systemic issues they seek to address.
3. Cultural Repression: On a cultural level, desires for authentic expression, community, and meaning are often co-opted and commodified by elites. The media and entertainment industries play a significant role in shaping public desires, often redirecting them toward consumption and superficial satisfaction rather than deeper fulfillment. When people seek alternatives or express dissatisfaction with mainstream culture, they may be marginalized or dismissed as outliers, their desires pathologized or trivialized.
4. Victim-Blaming: The strategy of blaming the victims is a powerful tool for elites to maintain control. By framing the struggles of marginalized or oppressed groups as the result of their own failures or deficiencies, elites can deflect criticism and avoid addressing the root causes of inequality and injustice. This victim-blaming is pervasive in discussions of poverty, crime, education, and health, where systemic issues are often ignored in favor of narratives that place the blame on individuals or communities.

In this context, the repression of desires by elites in the United States can be seen as a way of maintaining the existing power structures. By controlling the narrative and directing public attention away from systemic issues, elites can prevent the kind of widespread social upheaval that might threaten their position. However, this repression is not without consequences. Just as in Weimar Germany, when desires are repressed rather than addressed, they can manifest in destructive ways. The rise of populism, political extremism, and social unrest in the U.S. can be seen as symptoms of these repressed desires finding expression in ways that challenge the existing order.

The danger is that this repression, combined with the deflection of blame onto the victims, creates a volatile situation where unresolved tensions can lead to radical shifts in society. The lesson from the Weimar Republic is that when elites fail to address the legitimate desires and grievances of the populace, they create the conditions for these desires to be exploited by more extreme forces. In the U.S., the challenge is to find ways to channel these desires toward constructive ends, rather than allowing them to fester and potentially lead to destructive outcomes.